


Things You'll Never Say

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [79]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-07 14:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12235158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: Merlin knows his name is Merlin because Arthur tells him so.Written for Camelot Drabble Prompt #282: Word Count Month (750w). Sequel to "Things I'll Never Tell You."





	Things You'll Never Say

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sketch](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/326610) by f-iddery. 



 

Merlin knows his name is Merlin because Arthur tells him so.  
  
" _You’re_ Merlin,” he says, his face screwed up like he’s holding something back. “And I’m Arthur. Remember? Don’t think pretending you don’t know who you are will stop me from being angry with you, even if you did save my life.”  
  
They are standing by a lake, which is odd. Merlin doesn’t remember why they are here. Arthur is covered in blood and wearing chainmail, but he doesn’t seem to be injured. How has Merlin saved him?  
  
“Merlin?” Hands are on his shoulders now, bright blue eyes looking deep into his own. “Are you all right?”  
  
“I think so,” Merlin says truthfully. “How did we get here?” 

 

*

  
  
Merlin remembers some things; he can walk, talk, and feed himself. Other things come back to him with the familiarity of muscle memory: riding a horse, for example, or catching himself at the last moment when he’s about to fall down the stairs. The man they call Gaius tells him that the person he was before may never return, that his mind has been wiped clean by magic.  
  
He looks at Merlin carefully when he says this, but Merlin can’t for the life of him imagine why.

 

*

  
  
Sometimes, he thinks there is something missing. It’s not a feeling he can put his finger on, just a hesitation that comes sometimes before he moves, as if his body isn’t quite his own. He tries to push the thought aside, to bury it as something dangerous, but the question lingers.  
  
He drops three dishes and an antique vase before the first week is out, and the next week Gaius clucks over him worriedly when he lets a vial of valerian extract shatter on the floor. At least he doesn’t seem angry about it. He leads Merlin over to a bench and sits him down, looking into his eyes and ears and checking his body with meticulous care.  
  
“I can’t see any reason for it,” he says to Arthur, apparently pretending that Merlin can’t hear. “I can only surmise it must be part of the spell.”  
  
“Then how do we undo it?” Arthur is impatient, half turned away from Merlin. “He can’t go on like this.”  
  
“Are you sure that’s what you want, sire?” There’s something in Gaius’ voice Merlin can’t read. “If he regains his magic but not his memory— ”  
  
Arthur’s shoulders stiffen. “Just tell me what to do.” 

 

*

  
  
The crystal cave is the first place that actually seems familiar, and Merlin knows he mustn’t go inside.  
  
“No,” he says, digging in his heels as Arthur tries to drag him across the threshold. “You don’t understand, Arthur, she’ll kill me!”  
  
Arthur stops short. “Who will kill you?”  
  
“I don’t know.” Merlin bites his lip, and Arthur’s face softens. It’s the closest to gentleness that Merlin has seen from him, and, inexplicably, it hurts.  
  
“She’s gone, now,” the prince says, with quiet certainty. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”  
  
It takes some coaxing, but Merlin follows him inside.

 

 

*

  
  
“What do we do now?”  
  
The king shrugs, leaning uncomfortably against a plinth.  
  
“I have no idea,” he says. “I suppose we wait.”  
  
“That’s your brilliant plan?” Merlin snorts, but Arthur’s face goes hard, and he looks away.  
  
“All right,” Merlin says, after a moment. “Waiting it is.”

 

*

  
  
It happens that night, when Arthur is fast asleep and isn’t watching–later, Merlin will remember that’s how he’s missed so many things. He can’t find sleep on the rocky floor so he gets up and wanders through the cave, reaching out an idle hand to touch the walls as he passes.  
  
It comes upon him in a flash of breaking light.  
  
_Your name is Emrys,_ the stone says, in a voice that is as deep as a thousand years. _Remember who you are_.

 

 

*

  
  
He doesn’t, in the end, wake Arthur, but watches him in sleep; the small frown between his eyebrows, his steady, even breaths. When the first, faint light breaks through the cave opening, Merlin waits for him to stir.  
  
“Let’s have you, lazy daisy,” he says softly. Arthur’s eyes fly open.  
  
“Merlin,” he says, his voice breaking on the second syllable. For a moment, they simply regard one another, each waiting for the other to make the first move.  
  
Merlin is braced for anger, but to his astonishment, Arthur hugs him.  
  
“I have,” he says,” so much to tell you.”  
  
“It’s all right.” Merlin holds him tighter, closing his eyes against his tears. “I already know.”


End file.
